Everyone Got's a Secret
by Black Mary Janes
Summary: When the East High English teacher gives his students an assignment about their deepest secrets, his students shock him.
1. Sharpay

**Just something very random I thought up while bored in study hall. If I get inspired I may write out other characters versions, seeing as they would all get the assignment. But I may not. Just depends. Enjoy!!**

**Disclaimer: Seriously. Do you think I own any of this? I wouldn't be stuck in school still if I did. **

So does anyone else remember that debacle in the cafeteria last year??

You know, the one with all the secrets and confessing?

Oh yeah, that one.

Well, I know I was acting a bit…strange. I mean, what should it mean to me if some skater dude is into classical music? And who cares if Zeke bakes? Well, we all do now, because he's amazing, but really, why did that have to be a big secret?? And Martha. I mean, really. Who doesn't dance? So far as secrets go, that was a pretty lame one.

But mine isn't lame.

My secret's a good one. One that if anyone knew, I could never live down.

No one knows this secret accept for me, Ryan, and Mother. I don't even think Daddy knows.

My reputation could be ruined with this.

Here it goes.

…

I'm not a natural blond.

That's right ladies and gentlemen…

I dye my hair.

Of course, it doesn't sound that bad to any of you. I mean, so what? All girls have dyed their hair before. It's just a girl thing.

But most girls don't have a twin brother who had hair as perfectly blond as Ryan.

When we were born, our hair was the same color. There are baby pictures where the only way to tell us apart is by the clothes. But as we got older, I started getting darker. By the time we were six, I was a brunette (albeit a light one), while Ryan still had is baby fine pale yellow locks. It was then that I started begging my mother for some bleach. I kept at her for five years. Finally, as we were about to start middle school, she gave in. I walked into my sixth grade homeroom with hair just a golden blond as the stylist had promised. And no one knew any different, other than my brother. But he wouldn't tell.

I don't even know why I'm writing this. It's a stupid place to spill my soul, a journal being kept as an English assignment. But hey, the assignment was to tell a secret. I doubt you're even going to read this, so what's the point?

Although as Ryan will say when I tell him "It's really good for your inner peace, Shar."

Yeah. Like I really care about inner peace. God, why do I have to be related to that damn yogi?

I'm delaying now. The assignment was supposed to be front and back. This is only front.

I guess I can tell you my other secret, though this one isn't as juicy.

I'm not the younger twin.

Yup, you heard right. Everyone assumes Ryan is my older brother, because he's kinda quiet and stuff, and I'm the limelight hog, but he's not. I am exactly ten minutes older than him. And trust me, at home, we act like it. He's always coming to me for help in everything, from dishes to homework to life stuff. And he's always trying to have fun and not work. And Mother babies him. He's her favorite, by far. I mean, Ryan only does yoga because Mother suggested it. I told him he should start Pilates a year ago, and he just scoffed the idea. Now he's hard as a rock, and in a much calmer state of being. So calm, he's been telling me that I should go to class with him. Yeah, right. If I'm going to work out, I'm going to do it in a way that I can actually sweat. My state of being is at its peak when I'm sweating to some god-awful 80's songs (which are actually quite good to work out to).

So there they are. The two things no one knows about me except for my immediate family. And now you, Mr. Wagner. Although I still doubt you read these damn things.

I think I'll burn this book on the last day of school.

_Miss Evans, _

_I do indeed read these journals. As for your secrets, this was just what I was looking for. Don't worry, I will not blackmail you. Oddly enough, your brother wrote about who was younger as well. Very well written piece, although you may wish to omit the swearing next time around. _


	2. Taylor

**Okies, so I finished this chapter and one for Chad, but my Chad chapter is on my school laptop because I'm special. So y'all get this one first. Have fun!**

* * *

Taylor 

So I'm the smart girl. Well, the original smart girl. Gabriella kinda stole a piece of that from me. But it doesn't matter. I'm still a smart girl.

But the smart girl has secrets.

Yes, plural. I think it's ridiculous to think that I have only one. I mean, there are tons of things that people do that they don't tell anyone about.

But you asked for one, Mr. Wagner. So I'll just tell you one. Even though I have many.

Wow, this harder than I thought it would be.

I mean, I would think that it would be as easy as saying any other sentence. But it's not. Because I don't think anyone else knows this.

Seriously. I mean, you did say secret. My older sister doesn't even know this one. Nor does my mom. My dad does, but that's because it's his fault.

Fine. I've got to just buckle down and write it.

I listen to country music.

Yup. That's right.

Now, country music has a certain...reputation. People tend to think that it is made solely for country bumpkins with three teeth named Bubbah-Joe and Mollie-Pam.

Obviously that is not true, as I have all my teeth, live in suburbia, and have a fairly normal name.

But I do love country music. I'm not exactly sure why.

Probably because of the lyrics. I mean, most of the time, they are very relatable. And even though it is not likely that I will find an SAT word in there, it is some of the most eloquent writing I have ever read.

And I mean, it's great because you can sing along. A basic melody, fun words, a great beat...that's all you really need.

And it's so emotional! One country album can go from angry to joyful to melancholy in a matter of so many songs. It's amazing.

It's my dad's fault. When I was little, he used to play his old records in the garage when working on whatever project he was up to. I would always go in and listen to them, just a toddler, and dance to the music. My sister did too, but eventually she outgrew it. I never did. I was twelve, telling my daddy about a boy I liked while Johnny and June sang in the background.

Even now, we go to concerts together. He always says that we're goin somewhere else to my sister, and my mom thinks he's forcing me. They wouldn't understand it. They don't want to understand it.

So yes. Taylor McKessie, resident genius, the girl who will grow up to cure cancer, really loves her some Taylor Swift. And Rascal Flatts. And Billy Ray Cyrus. And Reba McIntire. And Brad Paisley. And Trace Adkins.

Okay I'm done.

Oh, and Johnny Cash, of course. And June.

And Emerson Drive.

Now I'm really done.

Wait! I forgot Josh Turner, the sexiest voice in all of music.

Now I am official done.

* * *

**And yes, I was listening to Taylor Swift when I was writing this. **


	3. Chad

**Okay, so I figured out how to work around my psycho laptop, so now I can post the Chad chapter. This one made me laugh. A lot. And yes, the ranting that Chad does to the notebook and the teacher is inspired by a friend who does the same thing.**

* * *

God Mr. W, why must you hate us?

I mean, really, we're seniors now. Aren't we supposed to have it easy this year? I mean, isn't it bad enough we have to worry about college? You're seriously going to make us write you a journal? With our _secrets_??

As my little sister would say, 'Gag me with a spoon'.

But hey, you're the teacher, and since my grades need to stay at least in the low B range, I suppose I will make a confession to you, my lovely English teacher, and you, ugly marbled composition note book.

But I have nothing to confess.

Seriously. What exactly do I have to hide form the world?? I'm pretty innocent. I'm a loudmouth, so it's not like you haven't already heard everything I have to say. And I'm totally not a secret agent with a confidential mission from the president.

At least, not yet.

But in all seriousness (which you English teachers go bonkers over) I do not have a single thing to confess.

…

Okay, maybe one thing. But it's no big deal. I mean, now that Troy is no longer just 'basketball boy' (apparently that's me now), musicals aren't all bad.

Oh, okay fine! I'm a dirty hypocrite!! Happy now evil marbled notebook?? I CONFESS!!!!!

In a sad attempt to dissuade Troy from auditioning last year, I told him about my mother and her thing for Michael Crawford, and how he's in our fridge (he's still there, too. She had me fix the laminating last night). I told him how she had seen Phantom of the Opera on Broadway 27 times.

Well, she isn't the only one.

Oh yeah. You know what's coming.

I, Chad Joseph Danforth, have seen the musical 17 times.

And I like it.

It's the truth. It all started when I was ten. My mom brought the whole family, saying it was the best musical she had ever seen. It was her tenth time, and she was anxious to get someone else as excited about it as she was. My father fell asleep, and my older brother thought there wasn't enough fighting. I thought it was perfect. More that perfect. It was the best story I had ever heard, the saddest tale to ever be told. It was magical, a lament that none would ever fully understand. I was in love. The power, the delivery…everything was magical. But even then, I know better than to tell anyone else. I never told my mother how the show had enchanted me, instead choosing to follow my big brother's lead and act as though it were nothing but farce to me. Eventually, she figured it out, as I never missed another show. But she kept it quiet, and I acted as though she were forcing me to go with her. My brother never knew the difference.

Why is this a big secret? Well that's a stupid question. Why are any secrets secret? BECAUSE THEY ARE EMBARASSING. You know, for a teacher you are not very smart, Mr. W. I can understand the stupid notebook not understanding, but you? God.

So yeah. Chad the new basketball boy, the one who was so adamant about keeping Troy out of the musical, is a closet fan. Of musicals, not Troy. Not that I don't think he's good, because he is. But he's not my version of Michael Crawford. Because, let's face it, Crawford was the best. And not like, the gay closet, but like, the musical closet. Which is nearby, but not the same thing.

So yeah. Confession. Done.

I'm out.


	4. Kelsi

Finally, another one!! I got a little sidetracked, obviously. And of course I love Kelsi so much I had to write on her. The idea kinds hit me today on the bus (very awkward situation, btw) and I HAD to write it down.

* * *

You know, some girls don't like to tell their secrets. Some girls don't trust you, Mr. W. Some girls (none that I know, of course) are not very fond of being forced to reveal things about themselves. I just though you should know that, Mr. W, and some girls ARE NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS ASSIGNMENT.

I just had to let you know.

Anyway…

Secrets.

Yeah, I guess I have some. Probably more than I should.

I do have one though that makes me feel pretty bad. I mean, some people won't think it's that big a deal (coughtaylorcough). But I do. Because it reveals something much bigger. Though I doubt Tay thought of that.

Okay, so this summer I wrote a song for Troy and Gabriella. Well, that's what I told them. The truth is, I didn't really write it for them. I wanted them to sing it, only because I knew that my first choice wouldn't. And I was afraid of what he might think of it. And what he would think of me.

I didn't write "You Are the Music in Me" about Jason, as everyone seems to think I did. I wrote it about another boy. A boy I wasn't dating. I wrote the song for Ryan.

And that's my secret. I'm in love with Ryan Evans. He is my inspiration, much more than Jason. And yet I'm with the latter. And I don't know why. I mean, he's sweet, affectionate, a nice guy. But I don't love him. Not like he loves me. Not like I love Ryan.

I know it's wrong. And that's why Ryan can't know: I don't want him to think less of me. Which he would, seeing as he is an honorable person that way. Not like me.

I know I should just give up. But I can't stop myself. He's the only thing I look forward to. He's the reason I love to write music. I feel like I've been writing for him since we first met. He's become such an object of obsession, it's creepy even to me. And no one knows.

You know, that song holds a lot of secrets. Another one that many wouldn't expect would be about the two different arrangements. Contrary to popular belief, I much prefer the version I wrote for Sharpay. I mean, it's high-energy, totally fun, and can you say piano solo?? It's way more fun than the version Troy and Gabriella sing, which was just a demo to begin with.

So yeah, those are my secrets…

Hope you enjoyed them?

You creepy voyeur.

Yeah, I'm talking to you, Mr. W.

And if you show this to your wife and kids like you threatened to do, I might just have to die.

Seriously.


End file.
